A Simple Translation
by thesummerstorms
Summary: It's a simple translation from Miralukese to Basic, but the whisper holds more than word can tell. Literal translations don't always match the actual ones. Two part ExilexVisas. Male Exile, both LS and DS.
1. Harmonies

**A/N:** Yes, another new fic while I have three in need of updating. Shush. For those of you reading "The Gamble for Home" and "Hush", I swear they'll be updated soon. The next chapter of TGFH is almost finished, and I've at least started on "Hush". The only problem is I'm on vacation at the moment, and while they're saved to my flashdrive, my grandparent's computer doesn't read Open Office files. Nor am I allowed to download the program. So to keep myself from going stir-crazy, I have a two part ExilexVisas fic. I suppose something like this was inevitable, since I roleplay as Visas on a forum now.

This is the lightside chapter; darkside chapter is number two. They don't actually fit in the same story line, but they go together. Kinda a thing like "Well, this could have happened... or this." I didn't really focus much on plotting or length, and I'd call these drabbles, but I think they're a little too long. Oh well.

I don't own Star Wars, BTW.

* * *

Even surrounded by a throng of onlookers they were alone. It was bliss. It was perfection.

The very air seemed smooth as the silk that clung to her gracile frame, the faint breeze a mere echo of the rustle of her skirts as he lead her gently through the dance. Even nature could not deny the urge to imitate such perfection, he thought.

The Exile only wished he could see herself as he did: a quiet goddess clad in flowing ivory and carmine. Her veil was thrown back, revealing her beautiful face. No longer did she hide; only her eyes were covered. Gently he reached up to tuck a stray strand of her dark hair back behind her ear, and she smiled at him.

His beautiful Visas, always so calm, so reserved yet truly warm. Nothing gladdens him more than to see the joy returned to her face. And again, he only wished that she could see as he did, just how beautiful she was. Perhaps she could tell from the way the wedding guests watched her, the feel of them as they clung to this singular testimony of rightness in the galaxy.

Their guests looked on with smiles and laughter, the occasional soft cheer. None were left untouched by the sense of promise they found there; none could deny the power of the healing that had passed between bride and groom. It was something left undreamt of after so many years of blistering war. It was addicting; they could not turn their eyes. But Visas and the Exile had eyes only for one another.

A Miralukese ballad played softly in the background, enhanced by the winds through the grass, the song of a bird, the soft trickle of water in the background. It was a subtle reminder that life went on, of a light that could never truly be extinguished, no matter how hard one might try.

The wedding was a long time coming, truly. The Exile had spent many years in the Unknown Regions at Revan's side, seeking out the True Sith. He had been unable to deny the call to serve and protect the galaxy he had so recently helped right, as well as the Force. But now he was home, where he belonged, and would not leave again. The Force could look after itself; he knew that now.

From the corner of his eye, he saw his old General, watching him and Visas dance. Revan's face was worn some, her viridian eyes weary, but the joy in her smile true. She was happy for him, glad that by letting go the Exile had gained so much. It was not a power she herself had, and he wondered if she envied him it.

Revan would leave again, given time, as she always had. She was a restless soul, one whose call he had once thought inescapable. But this time he would not follow. Though he loved her, would always love her in his way, the Exile belonged to another, body and soul. With a nod to his General where she stood alone and proud, he turned his eyes back to his future.

Visas tenderly reached to him in the Force, brushing her presence against his like the faintest touch of lips to his cheek. He smiled and brought her closer to him. As he pulled Visas close, he bent so his mouth was by her ear.

"Are you happy?" he whispered to his bride.

"Truly," she whispered back, "I could be no more so."

Silently, he smiled then kissed her. An appreciative murmur went through the crowd, but they could hear only their own joined heartbeats.

When he finally pulled away for air, Visas pressed her face to his neck, murmuring something. Surprised but happy, he idly rubbed her back.

"What?"

She raised her face again just enough to be heard.

"_My life for yours_" she told him softly in Miralukese, knowing he did not speak her people's tongue. Even if he had, he would not understand. The literal meaning of the words could not hold the depths of their true meaning.

He simply raised an eyebrow and waited for Visas to explain.

"I love you," she translated.

The Exile smiled.

"I love you, too. Always."


	2. Silence

Even surrounded by the throng of onlookers, they were alone. It was nothing new to either of them, simply a sentence they had carried for years.

Stoic faces, uncaring and lifeless in all but body, surrounded them. They were used to the galaxy's scorn, but never had it been more pronounced than as she lay there on the scuff-marked floor. Blood pooled across the rough fabric of her carmine robes, leaking from a rust-rimmed wound. Self inflicted.

He stood above her and watched with sickly fool's gold eyes, silent as a stone statue of an idol. The only noise was her struggling breath. As he watched his lover's agony, he held the truth of the galaxy: all things ended in darkness.

"Was… Was it enough?" Visas managed, her voice tired and fading as her life.

The Exile considered her for a moment, watched the slowing rise and fall of her chest, the slight part of her lips in each labored breath.

"Your sacrifice was sufficient, Visas"

For another moment there was silence; only the unvoiced whispers of their ghosts and Mandalore's unflinching gaze to keep them company. And still, they were alone except for one another, as they had been since long before. They were always alone in their likeness.

She surprised him then, surprised herself as her lips pulled back into as much of a smile as she could manage. It was desperate, and would have been wild had she the strength. Visas could hear his unspoken chiding.

_Fool. You have little enough strength as it is. Why waste it with this empty gesture?_

"Ah…," she murmured, "Then at last I can die. Will…you…will you stay… until…?"

Once again he delayed in answering, simply observing the Miraluka's last moments. As she lay dying among the grit and debris of battle, her beautiful face wracked with pain, she could hide no part of herself from him. All lay open for the Exile to see, and he took it all with seemingly unmoved eyes. Finally he knelt beside her.

"I will watch over you until death comes."

Visas turned her head slightly from him. There was no joy in his words; joy had deserted her long ago. But at least she would not be alone. She could not bear the weight of that. The only sound was once again her breathing as she waited for the Reaper with the Exile. Nihilius's soldier-slaves and Mandalore also watched, but it was only his company she kept.

As she felt her last breaths fill her lungs, Visas reached to him one last time. She did not expect him to accept her after this long, and regardless, anything he had to give her now at the end would not be enough to save her. But still she acted on compulsion, as she had from when she first met him.

"_I …love… you"_ she murmured in Miralukese, knowing he did not speak her people's tongue. Even if he had, he would not understand. The Basic equivalent, word-by-word, could not hold the depths of meaning.

The Exile only raised an eyebrow.

"What?"

Visas took a long taste oxygen- her last- and translated.

"My life… for yours…."

The Exile kept his watch as her soul left her body, deserting its dirt and blood covered husk. With a sigh he pressed his palm to her forehead in a twisted benediction. He had not expected to feel like this at her desertion.

He regretted. It was not a new emotion, but it was unexpected.

She had been faithful, and he would miss the surety of her presence. There had been little he could not ask of her, and even less she asked of him. And they had been truly _alike_. Visas alone had known the Exile's pain.

Now he was truly alone, unique in his strength and his wound. This had been necessary from the start. The Exile supposed power was always a lonely thing. He could not help but regret, though, her empty place at his side.

The very fact of this regret meant he was right to sacrifice her. Visas was a weakness; he had grown too dependent on her. Never mind the times the warmth of her body had eased him through nights that would otherwise have been to trouble ridden to sleep. Never mind her unspoken devotion. Like another being's addiction to painkillers, his fondness for her- for surely it had never been more than that- was impermissible.

As the Exile stood and left Visas's body, ready to depart this ship for Malachor, the phantoms of her words echoed on unheard by him, if only because he did not wish to listen.

_I love you._

_My life for yours._

Then again, he walked in silence.


End file.
